


Nothingman

by masterwords



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Backwoods Bar, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Trauma, stab wounds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:15:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28266732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/masterwords/pseuds/masterwords
Summary: “Catch any big ones lately?” Randy asked, towel drying some pint glasses and setting them delicately on the stack behind the counter.  Aaron shrugged.  This was always how their conversations went, and you'd be hard pressed to figure out that they had been best friends in their school days.  The bar had been in Randy's family for three generations now, and the Hotchner men had been coming and drinking there just as long.   Family traditions died hard out here.“They're always big,” he replied somberly, not really wanting to discuss his job.  He realized it was endlessly fascinating to a lot of people, but he was finding it harder and harder to compartmentalize the evil that twisted its tendrils through every bit of his life, especially now.  He was on medical leave, still licking the wounds of his latest failure.  This one night, he'd rather forget about that evil and immerse himself in the friendlier ghosts of his past.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 19





	Nothingman

**Author's Note:**

> I listened to Nothingman by Pearl Jam about 8923748324 times while writing this, so I guess it’s as good a title as any. All up in my 90s feels today. In this little shortie I just imagined what it might look like if the brothers Hotchner got together during Hotch’s leave after Foyet. The CM writers gave me a month of empty space in Hotch’s life and I’m just filling it with all the things that spark my whumpy fluffy joy.

On the anniversary of their father's funeral, every year, Aaron and Sean Hotchner would have drinks. They would drive to their hometown from wherever they found themselves and meet at the bar their father spent every night in, right up until he died. It wasn't to honor their father. Neither of them felt that necessary. It was more or less the last thread that existed connecting them to one another at all and Aaron refused to let it go. The funeral had been their first time seeing each other in years, and if they could just manage once a year, it seemed to be enough. They would show up, Aaron first, Sean trailing sometime after, and the bar tender would know to slide Aaron a double whiskey, neat, and Sean a pitcher of Budweiser. Sean hated Budweiser, it had been his father's drink of choice and he supposed he should drink it once a year as a reminder. He would often go through two pitchers and stumble back to his hotel room with a woman he met that night, while Aaron would nurse his whiskey all night long and sometimes not even finish it. He ordered it more as a formality than anything. Aaron always left alone. 

“Big, bad Hotchner!” the bartender called, watching Aaron stalk into the bar. It was pouring rain and he was drenched just from the short trek from car to the door. Aaron shook his head, droplets spraying around him. 

“Hey Randy,” Aaron said back, pulling up a stool at the bar. He sat down gingerly, stiffly, hunching over just a little. Not a moment passed before he had a drink in front of him, the fumes making his eyes water. He pulled out his phone and checked his messages – 3 from Sean, each one saying he'd be later and later but he promised he was on his way. Classic. He was driving down from New York this year, he and his new girlfriend were making a weekend road trip out of it he said – they'd gotten a late start, but they were almost there. He didn't bother to ask Sean if the girlfriend would be sticking around and joining them, the last thing he wanted to do was get into an argument and have Sean decide he wouldn't be coming at all. It wouldn’t have been the first time.

“Catch any big ones lately?” Randy asked, towel drying some pint glasses and setting them delicately on the stack behind the counter. Aaron shrugged. This was always how their conversations went, and you'd be hard pressed to figure out that they had been best friends in their school days. The bar had been in Randy's family for three generations now, and the Hotchner men had been coming and drinking there just as long. Family traditions died hard out here. 

“They're always big,” he replied somberly, not really wanting to discuss his job. He realized it was endlessly fascinating to a lot of people, but he was finding it harder and harder to compartmentalize the evil that twisted its tendrils through every bit of his life, especially now. He was on medical leave, still licking the wounds of his latest failure. This one night, he'd rather forget about that evil and immerse himself in the friendlier ghosts of his past. 

“Heard about you,” Randy leaned on the counter now, eyeing Aaron seriously, like he was trying to see if he'd flinch. He always liked to try and intimidate Aaron, had since he was a kid, and he usually fell just short. Never could figure out what got under his skin but not for lack of trying. He lowered his voice until it was just above a whisper. “My mom saw a story in the paper bout a week back said FBI Agent attacked in his home, talked about it being a local boy, saw your picture. She said you got real hurt. You gave him hell I hope.” 

Aaron froze, hands wrapped around his glass, his knuckles white. “Something like that,” he replied, sipping the whiskey he shouldn't have even been drinking. He shouldn't have been surprised that the local papers picked up on his story, or that the people would have read about it. This town was full of the type of people who still got their news the old fashioned way. He peered around the bar and noticed that everyone was looking at him, quickly, and then looking away again, like he was some mutant on display. Everyone wanted a glimpse of the local boy who almost got stabbed to death by a serial killer. It hadn’t been something he’d prepared himself for and he was a fool for it. 

“Paper said he was still on the loose...that true?” Randy mumbled, peering around the bar almost suspiciously. Aaron sighed and it came out shaky and ragged. He thought he saw Randy almost smile, like he'd finally found something that could shake Aaron Hotchner. 

“He is,” he said softly, staring into the deep well of amber in his glass, wishing he could jump in. Dave had warned him that this might happen and he’d brushed it off, it was too soon for people way out here to be talking. He’d been out of the small town life for too long, he’d forgotten how word of mouth spread like wildfire. “How have you and Jackie been?”

“She's pregnant again, that's baby number 6...” Randy reached into his back pocket, pulling out his wallet to produce a stream of photos Aaron really didn't care to see. He smiled at them anyway. 

“You have a beautiful family, you're a lucky man.”

“Says you,” the other man replied, chuckling. “Guy who got Haley Brooks says I'm lucky, that's rich.”

Aaron flinched. He hadn't meant to, he just wasn't on his game tonight. This wasn't unusual banter for them, but he was finding it challenging to take part this time. Couldn’t keep up, couldn’t find the mental capacity to fight back. 

“Uh oh,” Randy began, but he paused to look at Aaron, really look at him, and decided to back off. He'd already touched a nerve that he hadn't actually meant to touch. He wasn't trying to be mean, it was just a game they'd been playing since they were little. Since the time Aaron fell out of Randy's tree house when he was seven and dusted himself off, then climbed back up again like nothing even happened. Randy was a little scared of him then, but he also worshiped him. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to...anyway. Your drinks are on the house tonight, okay? Truce.” 

Aaron just nodded somberly, collecting himself and thanking his friend. He pulled out his phone when it buzzed and found two messages, one from Sean saying he was five minutes out (which probably meant 15) and one from Dave asking how things were going. He ignored Sean's text and considered carefully his response to Dave. 

Should have stayed home. He'd hit send and regretted it immediately.   
Is Sean there yet?  
Late as usual. He's bringing a girl.  
Keep it cool. Remember why you're there. Everything is okay. I’m here if you need anything.  
Thanks Dave.

Sean walked in, arm in arm with a woman who looked like she couldn't have been older than 25, soon after. Aaron turned around and raised a hand, a half ass wave. He watched as Sean sauntered over the bar like he owned the place, slamming his hand down before leaping up onto a stool and greeting Randy. 

“Beers, asshole!” he shouted, and Randy slid a pitcher over to him. “Whiskey for my brother! It's on me tonight.”

“He's taken care of,” Randy replied with a nod to Aaron, who tried to sink into his stool further. 

“Too good for my money, huh big brother?” Sean asked, reaching over and pulling Aaron into a tight hug. Aaron gasped and winced as he stiffened in his brother's embrace. Sean regarded him suspiciously, squeezing him tighter. Aaron let out a small whimper, try as he might to keep it contained it just leapt out of his throat without warning and he pulled his arms protectively over his midsection. 

“What the hell Aaron?” Sean asked, leaning back. His girlfriend looked just as offended, as if Aaron had somehow slighted her. Aaron just sat, mortified, the evening already having gone off the rails. It usually took hours and Sean's belligerent way of telling Aaron that he'd imagined their father's abuse, that it couldn't have been so bad as he said, before things went to hell. This was a new record for them. He couldn't blame them, he hadn't called or texted Sean to let him know what happened. Maybe he should have, but he didn't. Maybe tonight was going to be his way of telling Sean, though he was pretty sure he would have hidden it all night if he’d been able to. 

“Not now, Sean,” Aaron replied, nodding toward the girl standing just over his shoulder. Sean looked at her, then back at Aaron. 

“Whatever you have to say, you can say in front of her too...we're getting married.”

Aaron stared incredulously. He couldn't say he was terribly surprised, this was classic Sean and by next week the engagement would likely be called off, but he felt like he was being blindsided continually that night. The girl beamed, showcasing a small diamond ring that made the bile rise in Aaron's throat – it had been their mother's promise ring. He'd given her engagement ring to Haley, but Sean got the promise ring, the one engraved with his father's name. 

“I need some air,” Aaron muttered, standing up and stalking out of the bar. He leaned against the building, hiding just under the protection of the overhang, sucking the fresh rain scented air deep into his lungs. His hands drifted up under his shirt, feeling at the sticky bits of gauze and blood. He toyed with the frayed edges, the softened bits of tape holding them in place. It made him feel sick to touch them, to feel the way they burned every time he moved. 

“What the FUCK?!” Sean hollered, storming out of the bar. He held his phone in accusingly in Aaron's face, too close for Aaron's eyes to focus on but he knew what it showed - a mirror image staring back at him. The article. Randy must have let him in on the secret. “This really happened?!”

“Yes,” Aaron muttered through gritted teeth, tugging his shirt safely over his wounds. He was only a week and a half out of the hospital, the wounds were fresh enough that they still hurt, they still bled, they still reminded him every second of every day that Foyet was still out there and he'd taken everything with him. 

“And you weren't going to tell me?! I had to find out from some scumbag you used to troll around with in school?” Sean's voice said angry, but his body language just looked...sad. Aaron couldn't reconcile it. The anger he expected, but the sadness...that was new. And it looked genuine. 

“I've had a lot on my mind,” Aaron replied, pressing his hand flat against the throbbing in his stomach. 

“Yeah, I bet...” Sean scoffed, pacing back and forth. “So much that you couldn't even tell your own brother that some serial killer tried to kill you in your fucking apartment. I mean, shit, I'm the only family you have left and you don't even tell me. That's low even for you.”

Aaron squared his shoulders, forcing himself to stand tall, channeling every bit of strength he had left to just stare his brother down. “Already making it about you, that was quick. Maybe a new record.” 

Sean stopped pacing and stared hard at his brother. “Oh shut up. Shut the hell up you asshole. You almost DIED and I had no idea! I don't wanna read about some douche bag hurting my brother in a news article, I want my brother to call me and talk to me! I would have come, Aaron.” He approached again and pulled Aaron into a hug, holding him tight. Aaron bit into his lip and hugged back, though everything inside of him told him to pull away. He could feel the stitches pulling, the blood pooling softly beneath the gauze. Sean needed the hug, though, so he stayed. Stayed and it hurt. 

“I'm sorry, Sean,” Aaron whispered, pulling himself back. Sean regarded him sadly, watching the way he almost seemed to fold in on himself. It was so unlike him. Big, bad Hotchner is what Randy always called him, but right there, silhouetted by the neon lights of the bar, he just looked like that scared kid who would hide in Randy's tree house for days on end licking the wounds of one of their father's drunken nights. 

“Is it bad?” Sean asked, indicating the region Aaron was protectively covering now. “Bad bad?”

“Yeah,” was Aaron's reply as he slid back against the wall, all the fight gone from him. He couldn't explain why he'd done it, he wouldn't have done it around anyone else on the planet but he lifted up his shirt to show Sean. An older brother power play, maybe. Just proving that he was the tough one, reminding him why Randy called him Big Bad Hotchner. That someone could stab him nine times and he'd still meet his brother at some backwoods bar in Virginia because they'd set the date years in advance. Sean gaped at the mess of bandages and stitches and blood that covered the majority of his brother's stomach, the fresh blood pooling against the stark white. No wonder he hadn't wanted to be hugged. Sean felt too many things all at once, overcome by both the intense stupidity of his brother and hero worship. 

“Holy shit...” 

“Something like that. I'll be fine.” He let his shirt fall again and hugged his arms around his chest, the chill from the rain getting to him now. 

“I know,” Sean replied, sliding over to the wall and circling Aaron's shoulders with his arm. He pulled his brother under his arm gently, both a loving embrace and also a kick to the gut, just rubbing in the fact that he may be younger but he was also taller. “You always are.”


End file.
